


Reciprocity

by RhetoricFemme



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pure indulgent fluff, and suspenders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-29 01:31:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8470432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhetoricFemme/pseuds/RhetoricFemme
Summary: On this night, Yuuri takes the short walk to Victor's room, only this time he has no intention of leaving.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ::waves:: 'Allo.
> 
> I wrote a thing, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Have a lovely day!

It’s been a long time coming.

When he finally decides against turning Victor’s invitation away, taking slow but sure steps onto the other side of the threshold that until now he’s only crossed in the name of work, though more often than not only during the light of day. But never like this, Yuuri acknowledges, with his eyes trained toward the ground; his heart so high in his throat he can taste the copper of his heated blood.

Not like this, no. And yet he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The door is ajar, with warm light spilling out from the inside. An open door is an open door, really, especially when Yuuri stops to remind himself that it’s Victor who waits on the other side. It’s this thought that lends him the gumption to push it further open, and he can’t help the smile that pulls at his lips when he finds Victor writing at his desk, head resting on an elbow that lay against a stack of books.

How endearing it is when Victor shocks away from his work, having completely missed Yuuri for the task at hand.

“How impolite to startle an old man.” He teases while dropping his head to the desk. “There is no recovering from this!”

This is Yuuri’s opportunity to move closer. He takes it, placing one nervous hand between Victor’s shoulders. Ignoring his immediate anxiety, remembering that he came here with certain objectives, and recalling the fervent memory of a speech he shared not so long ago.

“Choreography, sponsorships and itineraries.” Yuuri drawls while lifting a piece of paper from his coach’s hand. “You’ve gone over all of this several times already, just today.”

“Mm.” Victor nods. “Can you believe all that goes into coaching an athlete such as yourself? Remind me to write Yakov a detailed thank you note. Maybe an apology, too.”

Immediately, Victor turns to face Yuuri. For one short moment the only sound is the soft wisp of a paper dropping back onto the desk, bated breath and quiet smiles.

It’s no surprise when reaching upward, Victor moves straight for Yuuri’s lips, the motion having ingrained itself within his muscle memory. As if it’s simply become part of who he is as a man.

If Yuuri has learned nothing else during these months, there will always be the deliberate, indulgent touch of Victor’s fingers against his lips. He cannot claim every touch to have been gentle, but always welcome just the same.

Tonight Yuuri moves in kind, taking what he wants with one hand melded to Victor’s shoulder, who in properly translating the energy, exercises his privilege in reaching up with both hands, lovingly cupping Yuuri’s jaw. One thumb rests at the corner of his mouth, and it’s interesting, Yuuri thinks, how Victor’s skin tastes so sweet.

Even more fascinating is how Victor’s muscles contract when Yuuri’s mouth abandons his thumb, choosing instead to focus on the palm of Victor’s hand. He moves from palm to wrist, dropping kisses one by one before chancing to meet Victor’s eyes.

Neither man utters a word, but it’s apparent that in this space any words would soon become redundant, anyway.

Yuuri massages at taut, over-concerned muscles, waiting to hear Victor groan with appreciation before slipping his fingers beneath one suspender and working his way downward. Stopping mid-chest, the suspender winds around and steadies Yuuri’s hand as he uses the clothing to pull Victor onto his feet.

Half a step more, and Yuuri buries his face into Victor’s neck. It’s up to Victor now, as having endeavored this far, it’s as if all of Yuuri’s energy has been spent.

Up to this point, Victor has largely remained still, opting to give Yuuri the entire floor. It’s a decision for which he finds himself richly rewarded, as he savors the gentle warmth of Yuuri’s breath against his neck, and the way it raises an unrivaled brand of excitement across his skin.

The crown of Yuuri’s head is the perfect resting place for Victor’s chin as he pulls him near, memorizes the way Yuuri leans all of his weight into his own. Raking a hand through Yuuri’s hair, an inherent truth roots further inside of him; beyond the talent, logic, and easy companionship that all say it makes sense to be right here. He looks away from all of the best things, and even without it Victor just _knows_.

It’s a difficult charge for Victor to ignore the tent that’s pitched inside his pants, though somehow he manages.

There’s comfort in realizing that time is no longer at a premium between the two of them. If Victor is a good judge of character—and in this situation, especially, he assures himself he is—then that is a promise.

And so, he indulges his senses in other ways; sighing as he gradually rakes his fingers through Yuuri’s hair. Content to hold onto him for just a while longer.


End file.
